When Meghan Markle joined the royal family, many believed she would bring a modern and refreshing change to the centuries-old institution.
Instead, what the palace received was a whirlwind of bold opinions and unsolicited reform ideas, presented by a woman best known for playing a paralegal on a cable television show. The royal household, steeped in tradition and bound by layers of protocol and decorum, wasn’t prepared for Meghan’s eagerness to overhaul its structure. She wanted to hit the ground running—an admirable intention, perhaps, if the ground in question weren’t polished royal marble and her shoes weren’t metaphorical six-inch stilettos of self-importance.
According to former palace staff—many of whom now feel safe enough, possibly post-therapy, to speak out—Meghan didn’t gradually transition into royal life. Instead, she crash-landed into it. In royal biographer Tom Quinn’s recent book, former Kensington Palace aides recall early meetings that felt more like episodes of a reality show than professional briefings. Meghan, bursting with confidence, allegedly took charge of meetings before she had even understood their purpose. One former staffer remarked that she seemed to have a messiah complex, while another noted her apparent belief that she knew better than the monarchy itself.
Meghan wasn’t interested in simply performing ceremonial duties or making appearances. She saw herself as a transformative figure—Diana 2.0, though seemingly on a part-time basis. At one point, she reportedly told staff, “What Diana started, I want to finish,” a statement that must have felt ironic to those royals still doing the job full-time. Her approach to royal life was equally contradictory—warmly hugging staff one moment, only to snap at them the next when they failed to anticipate her needs. Some sources claim her behavior brought seasoned professionals to tears, a feat usually reserved for drill sergeants or Gordon Ramsay. One individual allegedly needed extended leave after recording just three episodes of Meghan’s podcast, Archetypes. Another simply walked away, choosing mental peace over palace politics.
The environment became so difficult for some that the term "Sussex Survivors Club" reportedly emerged among former staff—a tongue-in-cheek support group of sorts, where the only prerequisites seem to be resilience and access to good wine and therapy. Even the downstairs staff reportedly had their own nickname for the couple: Monica and Chandler. It’s unclear whether the comparison was meant to be flattering, but in Meghan’s case, it might be the only time she’s been likened to a more likable character. Poor Harry, meanwhile, seemed to devolve from prince to glorified assistant, reportedly asking staff if they wouldn’t mind tidying up while Meghan barked out commands.
As the resignations mounted, the palace quietly launched an internal review in 2021. The findings have never been made public, locked away more securely than the crown jewels, but leaks have continued to surface. More recently, even Hollywood has cooled on Meghan. The Hollywood Reporter portrayed her as a demanding figure in designer heels, mistaking privilege for power and belittling those around her. Meghan and Harry, unsurprisingly, denied the portrayal, calling it part of a calculated smear campaign.
Yet, when multiple staffers flee, therapists get involved, and the exodus begins to resemble something out of the Old Testament, it's hard to point the finger at everyone else. If Meghan had the chance to do it all again, would she approach things differently—perhaps move a little slower, accept some royal coaching? Probably not. She seems far more invested in plotting her next reinvention. As for a royal comeback, that carriage has long since left the palace gates.
